Leeo

Once upon a time in my misspent yokel-fied youth, I quite angrily dealt random violence and mayhem upon innocuous postal receptacles along dark country roads. Though the lens of time has made me regret many such youthfully misplaced outlets for teen angst, to this day I would happily, with abandon and a 2lb. hand sledge, forge a fecking speculum out of Boo's mail box with which to pry apart that massive noggin of his to finally make clear for all and sundry to see that a slug is at the helm of that endomorphic, protein puppet erstwhile known as Boo. Or sumfink like that.

I want a million dollars and a brand new BMW.

A cold 40 for my home BOYYZZzzeezzzeezzzzzz-ah yeah!

Help! Help! I've been accosted by a Pshaw! See the violence inherent in the system? See the retribution, the slandering, the bucolic bacchanalia of torpescence? Shame on Pshaw! Shame upon his sorrowful, somnial semblance.

I would simply like to meekly ask for calmer heads and at least a modicum of deco-- Hey! Look! A Butterfly! Ooo, shiny wings blazing in the sun, but those insectile eyes, why at least half of 'em are looking at me funny. Why I oughta... So Piss orf, the lot of ya. Especially the greedheads in the washingtonian tar pits. May the jackals and hyenas feast on what bonz as hasn't got mired in the coporate pits of tacky collusion. Oh, and free the butterflys!

How's about you shove that cookie, old timer. I've searched for the quote, and I could find nothing. However, by its very tone, I would attribute it to one of the three old ones, most likely Seanachai, but I wouldn't put it past Peng either. Fact is, it sounds very much like your very crotchety ole self, Herr Oberst. Didn't we once start a game? If not, more's the pity for you... Go away alot now; you smell of mothballs.

I think 104 is much better, then 101 beers are perfect.

I'm wrong as well, and that's ok with me. If hating you is wrong, I don't want to be right. I was in the right place, but it must've been the wrong time. Is it wrong to not care? I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. My wife has a Vera Wrong dress. Hate the wrong, love the wronger. It's a Wrong Way, to Tipperary. Me hate you wrong-time. Wrong me once, shame on you; wrong me twice, shame on you too. It's just wrong.

Hello? It's spelled "too." Arbitrarily animated Assad on an assmonkey, at least get your prepositions straight.

Piss-orf and die-a-lot-now, you wanker wannabe.

I would like to provide an update on the status of my car. I went to back out of the driveway the other day, and the '97 Lincoln's steering wheel turned very hard (sit the feck down, bahaus). Shortly thereafter the '90s era electronic message center suggested I should check the assisted steering. I drove home, and it was akin to trying to steer a truck from the '20s down a curvey mountain road. The next day I checked the resevoir, and it smelled distinctly like fried hydraulic fluid. I started the monster up, and added a bit of fresh hydraulic fluid. Lo and behold, if that mechanical bastige didn't start steering properly. Of course, I take complete credit for the vehicle's change in attitude. However, the power steering resevoir still smells like burnt tires. I'm thinking I need a new pump, but just to make the rest drool, I think I'll take it for a couple more 100-mile-per-hour test drives before I decide to get it fixed. If that don't make you happy, then you must be dead.

Boo is finally kicking about my poor, brave lads from Britain. He should feel terrible about that. I will leave it to him to expound upon the reasons why he should feel guilty for sending to their ignomious deaths so many green troops from the floating carrier off the coast of Europe (not that there's anything wrong with that). Pissant.

I hates Boo. Sometimes I can find specific reasons to hate him, but most of the time I hate him in a more general, vague dis-ease type manner, you know, like how one hates a far away pompous ass with delusions of adequacy, but with whom you never really come into personal contact. Kinda like hating liana vines or sumfink like that. Those other times, however, when I can be bothered to hate him personally, such as with the vim and vigor with which one hates a rock in their shoe, I hate Boo much more specifically. Such as when he mercilessly destroys the assault of a green half company of British moes. Just then, he's a bit like an ingrown toenail, or one of those pesky, unseeable little slivers that get in your finger and twinges once every ten times you touch something. I hates him, but I don't put a lot of effort in it. Then there's that Nidan1 fellow whom I vaguely hate for his mildly annoying ISP restrictions that must be run by a committee of provincial commissars troubles, is really a bit like hating a lumpy pillow. There's just no satisfaction in it. I hate all the rest of you as well, you're just not worth the effort required to keep my fingers plonking away at this keyboard.

No, though I did try zipping the file again and resending this morning. Perhaps you need to tighten the string to the tin can on your end?

That is patently false, you ninny, for it presumes you started with a cerebellum to crock.

BOOM!

click

You puling little puke, haven't you had enough ass-thrashing lately? Are you so eager for more pixelated sucking chest wounds inflicted upon the vast majority of your ill-lead forces, Mr. Thank-you-sir-may-I-have-another?. Piss off, dry up, and blow away. I'll send you a turn when I can be bothered to sober-up long enough to continuosly click "go" on my way to another preordained pulverizin' perpetrated primarily and precisely upon your measley self, Mr. Poo Badly.

I am annoyed at the waste of time I've spent reading this buggy thread. I'll not pre-order another Peng challenge, and I will stamp my feet and start endless threads about how much I've been ripped off. There damn well better be a patch, and if it doesn't include improved content-posting AI, then I'm going to go tell mummy all about it, and then see if you bastards aren't sorry. I will not be purchasing further Peng modules until such a time as the 3 fecking Olde Ones personally guarantee that every minute I spend reading the MBT is pure, joy-filled bliss. If someone would've told me the Cesspool was full of crap before I bought into it, then perhaps I wouldn't be bothered by the buggy nature of the content producers, but as things went down, I am terribly, and I mean terribly disappointed in the quality of said posts. I will continue to bitch and bemoan until such a time as my petty demands are met. See if I don't. Bastige Thread developers.

Yesterday was a barfday. I don't suppose tamari will be much improved.

[ September 16, 2007, 04:54 PM: Message edited by: Leeo ]